New story, unrelated to ICoS (TSP Anthology: Wanderlust)
So earlier this year I participated in another of The Slash Pile Anthologies. Our mission: write a story to do with travel, incorporating 4 randomly chosen tags. I got religion, student/teacher, agents, and originally had polyamory which I switched to friendship but some polyamory overtones remained.
I just recently saw that the anthology was released. You can find it here for perusal or download: http://the-slash-pile.livejournal.com...
The story I contributed is called Deliverance.
It's about a federal agent, Luke, who's following up on the possibility of anti-Muslim terroristic threats in Fiji. It has nothing to do with In the Company of Shadows.
I suck at summaries so have an excerpt:
--
Luke had grown accustomed to hearing many accents over the years and being able to place the origin of their speaker.
This time, there was no need to even rack his brain. He knew a hometown accent when he heard one.
American, just like him.
He tried to concentrate on the meaning of that simple piece of knowledge but the rolling of the room was a nauseating distraction.
“Why are we on a boat?”
“We are not. As I said, you were sedated.”
Luke pressed his fingers to his temple, as if the pressure would still the migraine.
“Well,” he commented. “You sure know how to treat a guy. Will there be a comment card before I leave? I have some suggestions.”
The man didn’t bother to respond. When the silence stretched between them, Luke squinted his eyes open to peer between parted fingers. Details began to solidify in his surroundings: the hard texture of the concrete; the bare, flickering light bulb on the ceiling; the man’s piercing blue eyes.
After that he focused on the man himself.
He looked to be in his late thirties or early forties and was tall, powerfully built, with a scar that arched down his temple and curled along his cheekbone like a lover’s touch. He wore a simple cotton shirt, as brilliant a white as his eyes were blue, with loose linen pants and worn sandals. His dark blond hair fell across his forehead, looking purposefully tousled. It was difficult to tell his height but Luke guessed he would be close to his own 6’2”. He looked lightly tanned.
Overall, the man appeared to be at once manicured and comfortable.
He was sitting backwards on a chair, his strong forearms resting on the back of the chair while he studied Luke. Nothing could be read in that even stare.
Luke dropped his hand at his side, trying to ignore the massive pounding of his head.
What the hell had they given him, horse tranquilizers?
He shoved the fall of his brown hair out of his eyes, wondering if he looked as artfully tousled as his captor did. He didn’t need a mirror to know the answer to that question: he didn’t.
“So,” Luke said conversationally when it became apparent the man wouldn’t speak. “Kidnap federal agents to stare at them often or am I just special?”
“Do you know the meaning of your name?” the man rumbled.
Luke’s eyebrows drew together. “What?”
--
I also contributed an art piece to it, called Ascendant. Here is a tiny preview:
You can find the full (huge) piece here:
http://mikaaislin.deviantart.com/art/...
It has mermaids and my version of an angel.
I just recently saw that the anthology was released. You can find it here for perusal or download: http://the-slash-pile.livejournal.com...
The story I contributed is called Deliverance.
It's about a federal agent, Luke, who's following up on the possibility of anti-Muslim terroristic threats in Fiji. It has nothing to do with In the Company of Shadows.
I suck at summaries so have an excerpt:
--
Luke had grown accustomed to hearing many accents over the years and being able to place the origin of their speaker.
This time, there was no need to even rack his brain. He knew a hometown accent when he heard one.
American, just like him.
He tried to concentrate on the meaning of that simple piece of knowledge but the rolling of the room was a nauseating distraction.
“Why are we on a boat?”
“We are not. As I said, you were sedated.”
Luke pressed his fingers to his temple, as if the pressure would still the migraine.
“Well,” he commented. “You sure know how to treat a guy. Will there be a comment card before I leave? I have some suggestions.”
The man didn’t bother to respond. When the silence stretched between them, Luke squinted his eyes open to peer between parted fingers. Details began to solidify in his surroundings: the hard texture of the concrete; the bare, flickering light bulb on the ceiling; the man’s piercing blue eyes.
After that he focused on the man himself.
He looked to be in his late thirties or early forties and was tall, powerfully built, with a scar that arched down his temple and curled along his cheekbone like a lover’s touch. He wore a simple cotton shirt, as brilliant a white as his eyes were blue, with loose linen pants and worn sandals. His dark blond hair fell across his forehead, looking purposefully tousled. It was difficult to tell his height but Luke guessed he would be close to his own 6’2”. He looked lightly tanned.
Overall, the man appeared to be at once manicured and comfortable.
He was sitting backwards on a chair, his strong forearms resting on the back of the chair while he studied Luke. Nothing could be read in that even stare.
Luke dropped his hand at his side, trying to ignore the massive pounding of his head.
What the hell had they given him, horse tranquilizers?
He shoved the fall of his brown hair out of his eyes, wondering if he looked as artfully tousled as his captor did. He didn’t need a mirror to know the answer to that question: he didn’t.
“So,” Luke said conversationally when it became apparent the man wouldn’t speak. “Kidnap federal agents to stare at them often or am I just special?”
“Do you know the meaning of your name?” the man rumbled.
Luke’s eyebrows drew together. “What?”
--
I also contributed an art piece to it, called Ascendant. Here is a tiny preview:
You can find the full (huge) piece here:
http://mikaaislin.deviantart.com/art/...
It has mermaids and my version of an angel.
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